


When Commie and Ancom fight, there are no winners

by spacetrash_uwu



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Drabble, Genderbending, Other, Sad Pining, boy it's late
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24500509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacetrash_uwu/pseuds/spacetrash_uwu
Summary: Nazi has a bad night at the club with her fellow housemates. They all do.
Relationships: ancom/authright
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49





	When Commie and Ancom fight, there are no winners

Nazi gripped her glass tighter. It was noisy and lights flashed, something that she already hated on principle; the chaos didn’t suit her well, never had, but what made things so much worse was to have to sit still and just _watch_ as Ancom perversely grinded against a smug and willing Ancap just to spite Commie.

Everyone was part of that equation except her.

She often wondered why Ancap let her anarchist friend walk all over her like that; every attempt to get the other right winger to man up and assert her strength and dominance was languidly waved off by Ancap, humming carelessly that precisely _not_ asserting her “dominance or whatever” was what got her grinded on by Ancom. She seemed to think it was a good deal.

A dead end was what it was. While the two anarchists danced together, writhing as the lights flashed alluringly across Ancom’s chocolaty skin, painted nails and cat eye makeup setting pretty accents in the otherwise hard to see scene, Ancom had no eyes for Ancap, didn’t even notice her; instead, their pouty stare only ever searched for Commie, sulking in the boring corner with her socialist bros and sending equally petty glares back.

Those two fought so often, it was infuriating; not only were they noisy and had terrible timing, but Nazi was beginning to get aggravated on their behalf. Why couldn’t they just have a normal relationship, like those other liberal degenerates roleplaying as traditional married couples?

Nazi’s grip on her cup loosened when she noticed Ancap getting annoyed with Ancom after all. Maybe those many talks they'd had actually paid off and Ancap finally noticed how Ancom was cucking her. Her and Commie both, really.

She watched curiously as Ancom at first tried to ignore Ancap’s growing frustration until the latter grabbed their forearm and whipped them around, angrily yelling something at them. Ancom seemed to try and placate, but the attempt was doomed when they ended up throwing a furtive glance back at Commie after all. Ancap shook her head in disbelief before stomping off, right past Nazi. She didn’t even give her the opportunity to say something mean.

Nazi looked after her, taking a sip from her drink. Maybe this was a good moment to get a lift home; she never enjoyed herself at these clubs anyway, at least not beyond the moments when Ancap would sit with her, interestedly listening to her theories on culture and ethnicity. Ancap only cared for them in terms of advertisement strategies and when drunk, but it was around the only times anyone listened to Nazi at all. Her fascist cronies all had pretty contradictory opinions on who was the “right” race, and while they could set that aside during daylight hours, the drunker they became, the less willing they were to compromise.

Still not quite ready to get up from her seat, Nazi turned her head back towards the dance floor and came face to face with Ancom, looking somewhat pleading.

“She went that way, degenerate,” Nazi pointed in the wrong direction.

Ancom frowned. “I don’t think she wants anything to do with me right now.”

Nazi shrugged, taking another sip.

“And I’m pretty sure that’s your fault.”

“Everything is my fault according to you.”

Ancom rolled their eyes, throwing another anxious glance at Commie purposefully ignoring them. Dear _god,_ those two were petty.

Nazi was about to say something acidic when the words got stuck in her throat as Ancom bit their lip, wringing their hands. Her mouth felt dry.

“Do you want to go dance?”

She should’ve told Ancom to fuck off and be gross and annoying by themselves, but as those green eyes looked up at her through dark lashes and disheveled hair, she found herself powerless to do anything besides wordlessly nod.

“Just to piss off Commie,” she ground out as Ancom took her hand and dragged her to the dance floor. She doubted anyone had heard her.

They got to a spot from which Commie could definitely see them, but not close enough to be overly conspicuous; not that Nazi gave half of a shit about Commie right that moment. All she saw was Ancom hurriedly attempting to pretty themselves up. She knew they were doing it for the stupid socialist, but Nazi let herself imagine for just a moment that it was for her.

“Do I look good?” they had the nerve to ask.

“You look like a degenerate mess.”

“Whatever,” Ancom ignored her, wrapping their surprisingly bony arms around her neck and swaying their hips. Nazi froze, staring down at them.

“Come on, move. Please?” Ancom complained, pressing up a little closer to reach her ear.

That made Nazi even stiffer, but she tried to snap out of it, stepping from one foot to the other and setting her hands on Ancom’s thin waist. The skin there was hot and soft and Nazi felt like fainting.

Ancom tried their hardest to make up for what Nazi lacked, shaking and rolling their whole body to the rhythm of the terrible music; Nazi felt as their stomach muscles tightened and softened, could feel every ripple course over their skin.

“You have goosebumps,” she said, voice monotone.

Ancom scrunched their brows, continuing to dance. “Because your hands are really cold.” They looked back at where Commie stood; the way she looked at them, Ancom’s little spiel was _not_ working. “Nazi, you have to pretend you’re enjoying this.”

 _I am_.

“Imagine I’m some dreamboat guy or something.”

 _I’d rather not_.

“Otherwise Commie won’t get jealous.”

A spark of irrational anger shot through Nazi at the mention of the name. Jaw clenching, she whipped around Ancom by their waist and grabbed their hips, pressing up impossibly tight to them. As she lowered her head towards their neck, she heard their breath hitch, her nails instinctively digging into their flesh.

“You want to dance, Ancom? Then let’s _dance_ ,” she snarled, one hand coming up to cup their face and gain access to their neck. She knew they were probably looking at Commie still, but at least she got to taste their skin for once. Ancap and Commie let Ancom walk all over them, but she would take what she wanted. She’d walk all over Ancom _._

As she moved, for once feeling in sync with the abominable music tragically appropriate for what she was doing and with who, she heard Ancom mutter worried phrases and warnings, as if any of that was going to stop her. All she registered was how their voice wavered with every roll of her hips, every scratch of her nails.

She flipped them back around, piercing gaze drowning in Ancom’s vulgar expression. Hating herself for it, Nazi felt herself suddenly become hesitant, hand only slowly creeping up their spine and to the back of their head; Ancom's hair was thick and soft and her eyes fluttered close for a second. She brought their faces closer together.

Suddenly, Ancom was ripped from her and a hard fist connected with her face. A part of the crowd moved away from their little spot before reverting to being clueless as Nazi tumbled to the floor, groaning as she held her nose. Her hand came up bloody.

When she looked up, she saw Commie protectively towering over Ancom, occasionally sending her disgusted glowers. Refusing to chalk this up as a loss, she flashed the socialist a smug grin before getting back to her feet; the possessive bastard grimaced. She considered saying something insulting before walking off to seal her victory, but the pain emanating from her nose informed her that it would likely only come out nasal and pathetic.

Once out of sight, Nazi’s collected stride broke out into a run until she had reached the outside of the club. She leaned against the brick wall around the corner, letting the cool night air curb the throbbing of her face.

She stared up at the stars, at once melancholic; she had had what she wanted for just a moment, but that moment was over. She was never getting it back.

Few things pissed her off more than being just as stupid and emotional as the other two when it came to Ancom. Pathetic and ridiculous was what it was, and she made sure to let Ancap and Commie know that whenever she could. Yet, here she was, just as stupid. Just as blind.

**Author's Note:**

> It's very late and I had no reason to write this except that I kinda felt like it. Who needs sleep?


End file.
